


and she was red

by ClementineKitten



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Death, Established Relationship, Eventual Relationships, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, everyone's like in their early twenties, imma try and make it a slow burn i'll do my best, ratings are preemptive, uhhh there's v3 spoilers if that wasn't evident
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-01 01:38:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15132254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClementineKitten/pseuds/ClementineKitten
Summary: A seemingly normal, aloof barista moonlighting as an assassin, Harukawa Maki, is well-renowned in the black market industry. She's a talented killer who promises quick service without strings attached. Killing for dirty money is the only life she's known for as long as she can care to remember.And that life begins to fall apart when she receives a hit request for the famous astronaut, Momota Kaito. And with the police hot on her trail, everything's started to get much more complicated than she ever intended.That's the life of an assassin for you, isn't it?Modern/"Regular life" AU, set in Los Japangeles, or some other non-specific city.





	1. high roller

“So, chère, how does this work?”

One Harukawa Maki leaned back into the plush, crimson seat of the sleazy bar she was in. She narrowed her eyes, glaring at her client across the table through the cigarette and marijuana smoke that permeated through the room. “Call me _chère_ one more time and you’ll find out very, very quickly,” she warned, keeping an even tone. The client lifted her fingertips to her lips and let out a soft giggle. Her lacy dress shirt fell from her hand to reveal a metal instrument attached to one of her fingers.

“But of course.” She tipped her head to the side. Harukawa watched her, unamused.

“I take the down payment before I take the job,” she informed the woman, who took to adjusting a tie as red as her eyes. “Think of it as insurance. Once the victim has been disposed of, I collect the rest.” Harukawa folded her arms over her chest. “Clear?”

“Crystal.” The other woman smiled a devilish little smile. “But what would happen, perse, if I did not pay in full once the job was done?” She gave Harukawa a pleasant look.

“If that were to happen,” Harukawa exhaled, “you would become my next target effective immediately. And over the hundreds of jobs I’ve undertook, I’ve only failed once.” She leaned forward slightly, craning her neck towards the woman across from her.

“Oh-ho, how delightfully frightening.” Seeming unperturbed, the woman smiled. “But I am interested nonetheless. Shall we speak?”

“...Is that not what we’re doing currently?” Harukawa asked rhetorically. The woman reached into her black blazer and produced a photograph from inside, sliding it across the table towards Harukawa. The assassin picked up the image and squinted at it. It was a picture of a pudgy man with glasses, surrounded by a flurry of papers.

“This man’s name is Yamada Hifumi.” The woman rested her chin on her fist. “He has been giving me, how you say, _trouble_ , as of late. His obsession with me is quite irritating. He contacts me far too often, despite a lack of reciprocation, and in quite a creepy way.” She sighed. “I’d like to get rid of him.”

Harukawa placed the photograph on the table and pressed down on it with her finger. “You’d like me to kill him for simply being an online nuisance to you?” she questioned. The smile fell immediately from the woman’s face.

“I do not believe it is in your job description to scrutinize the people who are endorsing your livelihood,” she said, a hard edge to her voice. “Look not a gift horse in the mouth.”

Running her fingertip along the rim, Harukawa slipped her hand around the top of her whiskey glass and lifted it to her lips. “I’ve killed for pettier,” she responded after a moment. She didn’t dare touch her drink to her lips. She didn’t trust for a minute that there wasn’t anything sketchy put into it.

“Lovely,” the woman hummed.

“If you’re serious about this,” Harukawa began, sliding her glass back onto the wooden table, “I’m going to need some more details. Where he works, where he frequents, and who is close to him. Things like that will certainly help… Speed along the process.”

“Of course. But before that,” The woman began, cutting off Harukawa. “I’d like to know how much a down payment would be, under normal circumstances.”

Harukawa thought for a heartbeat. “I usually charge $5 000. How does that sound?” 

The woman adjusted her collar. “...Doable.” She reached deep inside her blazer and retrieved a stack of bills, tied neatly with twine. She placed the money on the table in front of Harukawa. Skeptically, the assassin took it and flipped through the bills. From her pocket, she took out a UV light and scanned them carefully.

“$5 000 exactly, I’m sure,” the woman giggled. Harukawa eyed her as she pocketed the money, feeling some semblance of guilt fill her stomach. It had been too long to remember what the emotion actually, truly felt like.

“You _are_ serious about this,” Harukawa noted. The woman nodded.

“I do not expend any more energy than what I need to.” She buttoned her jacket. “Everything I do has a purpose, or it is a waste.” 

“...Uh huh.” Harukawa met the woman’s eyes. She saw no feeling in the red depths, no gleam of fear nor even excitement. She was disgusted by how much they reminded her of her own. She averted her gaze. “About this Yamada…?”

“Oh yes.” Her client leaned over the table to speak in a more hushed tone, and her large, curled pigtails brushed against the tabletop. “He works at-”

…

-

It was a week after she had spoken with the client and Harukawa had arranged a meeting with her target. She had managed to charm him into meeting her after hours at his office on a Thursday night. She did her research and knew that Yamada often stayed very late at his place of work, a small building called _Independent Together Inc._ Her target was a fairly private man, and although he had many acquaintances, he had very little people working for him. They were all typically out before 10 P.M, and his secretary, who stayed the latest out of all of them, left at 7 P.M on Thursdays to visit his sister in the hospital.

Perhaps Harukawa should have felt guilty for taking advantage of the young man’s empathy for his sickly sister, but in all truth, she felt nothing. Good people, bad people, all fell victim to her special brand of ruthlessness.

It wasn’t a good way to live, but a human’s best strength is their ability to adapt.

She had reeled Yamada in by roleplaying as a character from an anime he was quite openly fond of. Her display name and image was that of a conventionally attractive girl from the show, and in the past week she had managed to throw together a passable cosplay. They had been exchanging messages for a few days when Harukawa suggested they meet up the following night. He demanded pictures of her in her outfit, and though it felt quite degrading to take pictures of herself for a man of his caliber, she obliged and sent them over.

What she omitted from the pictures, however, was that she would be wearing soft, black gloves, as to not leave behind any fingerprints.

And so it came that Harukawa stood in front of the entrance to Independent Together Inc., dressed in her cosplay. She pulled at her skirt as she pushed open the glass doors, stepping into the dimly lit building. It was 11:07 P.M as she walked in. If she made haste, she could be out in another 15 minutes.

She had a hood pulled over her head, which covered any defining features, with mesh that allowed her to see her surroundings. It was a risk to commit an assassination in a company building, but she would’ve had a much harder time coaxing him outside alone, and she promised her clients a fast delivery on her end of the bargain.

Her head swiveled around the lobby area. It was very quiet, almost eerie in the lowlight. She noticed a surveillance camera aimed at the door, and quickly darted under it. She had cased the place the night prior, cutting a very vital but small cord that allowed the camera to properly function. With a slight exhale of relief, she realized that the camera was just as damaged as she first left it.

Satisfied, she stole up the stairs of the building. Yamada’s personal workspace was on the top floor of his building, which both complicated things as well as made them easier, in a sense. He was further removed from the general public, which made it less likely someone would stumble upon them. However, if she had been noticed, and someone reported her on her way to the building, then it could be easier to corner her.

Of course, she wouldn’t allow herself to be caught, and if worse came to worse, she could always dive out the window and made a quick getaway. She was a trained assassin. She could handle some three storeys- or more. 

The flats of her costume were quiet on the tiled floor as she made her way upwards. On her first jobs, this would be the point where her insides would twist with nerves, and she would feel nauseated at the prospect of murder. After the deed had been done, she would stand, trembling, covered in blood, suppressing the urge to vomit.

It had been twelve years since her training started. Now, she could suppress much more than her vomit. The heavy feeling of a knife pressed to her side was almost comforting.

It didn’t get easier, she just got used to it.

Like a trip to the dentist.

Harukawa attempted to rid her mind of such useless thoughts. She could have nothing to hold her back when it was time for her to kill. At the entrance to Yamada’s room, she paused. He had a glass pane on his door, covered from the inside by some sort of curtain. _Yamada-sama_ was engraved on a golden nameplate hanging below the window. She ignored the inherent arrogance of that phrase as she took off her hood and pressed it into a bag she was carrying. She had intentionally picked a character to cosplay who was often depicted with a cutesy messenger bag.

She took a deep breath, as well as the doorknob. Slowly, she pulled open the door, putting on as bright as a smile as she could manage. It felt very unnatural on her face, and it stretched her skin like saran wrap. To prepare for this night, she had watched a few clips of the show, just so she could attempt to mimic the character’s voice. She wasn't even that sure that it would be something that Yamada would be fixated on.

“Good night~!” Harukawa spoke with a pitched up voice as she stepped into the room, cocking her head to the side and putting her hands on her hips. Yamada looked up from his work.

“Oh… _Oh_!” He seemed almost frozen, as if shocked by Harukawa’s entrance. “Yes, yes, that was tonight,” he hummed to himself in satisfaction, pushing some papers out of the way. Harukawa forced the smile to stay on her face.

“You betcha!” she commented excitedly, clapping her hands together. Yamada grinned, and Harukawa was unfazed. She'd done worse than cosplay for some doujin artist for a job.

“Okay, Ayane-chan, let me get a good look at you.” Yamada straightened in his chair and rubbed his hands together. Harukawa approached him in a saunter, the frills on her skirt dancing behind her. Ayane was the character’s first name, and Ayane-chan was how the main character referred to her as. _So, he’s the protagonist, I take it._

Extrapolating from this, Harukawa continued. “Is something wrong with my appearance, Itsuki-kun?” she pouted, resting a hand on his desk and widening her eyes into a puppy-dog like expression. Yamada shook his head.

“N-no, you look fine!” he insisted. Harukawa threw her hair behind her head and giggled softly. 

“As long as it’s okay with you, Itsuki-kun~” As Harukawa spoke, she scanned Yamada’s body. It might have been in vain for her to stab his chest, as he had a lot of body fat. Her next choices after that were usually the shoulder or the neck, as both had vital arteries running through them. The neck was the default place, typically. She tried to switch up her weapons and fatal strikes so that they couldn’t be traced, or linked together in some way.

Clearly, Yamada didn’t notice what she was actually doing, and mistook her searching glare for her admiring his body. “Looking at my muscles, eh?” he crooned, flexing his arm. Harukawa’s eyebrows furrowed in a moment of character-breakage, and she quickly put a hand to her face in a bashful movement.

“You caught me,” she lied. “Can I feel them, Itsuki-kun?” she asked with a bat of her eyelashes. Yamada grinned.

“Oh, um… Of course!” He looked a little embarrassed, and Harukawa smiled as she leaned in close to him. He smelled faintly of some sort of fruity cologne, and his skin was warm. Harukawa ran her hands slowly up and down the man’s arms, and jutted her neck forward to whisper into Yamada’s ear.

“You’re so muscular,” she murmured. There’s this uncomfortable disconnect between what she feels and what she says and does, but that was something she grew acclimatized to a few jobs into her career. Sweat creased Yamada’s brow.

“Thank you?” The intonation makes the sentiment seem more like a question than a statement. Harukawa lessened the pressure she was putting on Yamada’s right arm as she slowly drew her arm back and slipped it into her bag.

“Anything for you, Itsuki-kun,” she purred. Her hand gripped the hilt of the knife, and the sensation brought her an abhorrent amount of ease. She should not feel so relieved to hold a weapon. And yet, the feeling of the wooden-leather grip is comforting, in a way.

“Well, I mean- _what are you doing_?!”

Harukawa grabbed Yamada’s shoulder with her left hand and twisted it, pushing him backwards. Yamada let out a pathetic yelp of surprise as he collapsed, and Harukawa straddled his body, lifting her knife to deliver the killing blow.

She let go of Yamada’s shoulder and pressed her hand to his mouth so hard that the skin around it turned white. “Don’t say a word, or I will slaughter all of your subordinates,” she hissed, gritting her teeth. Unadulterated fear flashed in Yamada’s eyes, and his body turned clammy with sweat.

He looked so, so scared.

But Harukawa couldn’t hesitate.

She plunged the knife into his jugular without remorse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry to any yamada fans *holds up hands defensively*  
> anyways i love harumota here's some garbage this is gonna be a SERIOUS FIC.. for once.  
> i do intend to finish this, or get decently far into it. it's a bit of stress relief, given the fact that i'm moving across the city this summer, away from the house and neighbourhood i've lived in for the past 11 years. so yikes.  
> hope y'all enjoy this! i know this isn't a super original idea, and because of that i've purposely avoided any fanfics with a similar premise, so any similarities are completely coincidental. i noticed there wasn't too many good multi-chapter harumota fics (not that i'm saying mine's gonna be great or anything) so uh... we've gotta change that.  
> i read this really good one today, though, while i was visiting family. it's called does his love make your head spin? and it's. amazing


	2. harukawa maki: regular barista extraordinaire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harukawa lives a completely uneventful day after murdering someone. Y'know, the usual!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw, tenko will be speaking in first person instead of third person. i don't trust people who speak in third person y'all

“Good morning, Harukawa-san!”

A familiar head of blonde hair greeted Harukawa brightly from behind the counter the following morning. Akamatsu, one of her co-workers at the café she worked at, looked up briefly as she busied herself with brewing a pot of coffee as Harukawa joined her and tied an apron around her waist.

“How was your night?” Akamatsu asked with a smile. Harukawa averted her gaze from the woman as she tied back her hair.

“The usual. It was fine,” she told her co-worker. Well, it wasn’t like she was lying. Akamatsu wrinkled her nose.

“Did you hear about the death of that doujin creator?” she asked as she walked past her.

Ah, yes. Harukawa knew this whole song and dance. Most times when she had a target, the story of their death would break the news. Yamada was a fairly well-known person in the anime and manga industry; she figured that it would be in the papers by now. Whenever the story was made public, Akamatsu would use it as an icebreaker the next day. If Harukawa always said she had heard about the death, it may make Akamatsu wonder how she was always privy to such information. On the other side of the coin, if she never knew, her co-worker may be suspicious of how clueless she was.

“I did. It’s sad, I heard he had a lot of fans,” Harukawa said. Akamatsu gave a sorrowful little nod.

“It is. But you wanna know something?” She smiled mischievously. It’s a tone Harukawa was used to- even if she said no, Akamatsu would divulge anyways.

“Shoot,” Harukawa responded simply. 

“Shuichi told me that they’re treating it as a murder,” she said in a hushed voice. Harukawa rolled her eyes internally. _Anyone with half a brain could tell that it wasn’t accidental,_ she thought to herself privately. It wasn’t like they’d find the murder weapon anyways; Harukawa never left her knife, or anything else, behind. “The surveillance cams were sabotaged. They think the perp did it.”

“Mhm,” Harukawa responded absently, ignoring the fact that Akamatsu was disclosing much more information than she should- to the culprit of the case, nonetheless. “So, Saihara’s working the case?” she asked. Akamatsu nodded her head.

“You betcha!” she exclaimed. The confirmation was enough to make Harukawa worry, if only for a moment. Akamatsu’s boyfriend was a detective, a pretty well-renowned at that. He got his big break solving a murder case that had stumped everyone at his practice. He was a nice guy; Harukawa liked him. She figured if anyone could finger her as the killer, it’d be Saihara. “He already thinks it’s connected to this string of murders that’s been going on for _months_ ,” Akamatsu added.

Harukawa didn’t say anything regarding that claim. For as ditzy as Akamatsu acted, she was startlingly perceptive, so she had to watch her tongue around her. “Good luck to him, then,” she said as she walked away from Akamatsu and the conversation, heading into the kitchen area behind the counter.

Instead of the peace she craved, she ran into another one of her co-workers.

“Ah, nice to see you this morning, Harukawa-san,” he greeted pleasantly. Harukawa looked up at him- he appeared as happy as always, a far away look in his eyes, with his unruly white hair tied into a small bun.

“Likewise,” she mumbled. The man cocked his head to one side.

“Hm? You look quite tired, Harukawa-san. Did you get enough sleep?” he asked concernedly. Harukawa nodded slightly. _Well, I mean, I got home at around 11:30, I spent the next hour cleaning my weapon and my clothes, I didn’t get to sleep until 2:00 A.M, and I woke up at 6:30._

“Just had _one of those_ nights, you know?” She settled on that as her answer. Her co-worker nodded sympathetically. 

“Well, make sure to take care of your-” he started again, only to be cut off abruptly by an impatient Harukawa.

“Thanks for the concern, Komaeda, but I’m fine. Anyways,” she said, letting out a breathy sigh as she glanced behind her shoulder, over the counter. She stuck out a thumb towards it as she continued. “Someone’s waving at you. I think you have a visitor.”

Komaeda looked behind Harukawa and spotted who she was gesturing to, a man with sticky-uppy brown hair and heterochromia. _What a combination._ Komaeda smiled.

“Well then, I’ll see you later, Harukawa-san.” He gave her a farewell wave as he went to lean over the counter and speak to the man. Harukawa exhaled slowly. She didn’t expressly hate any of her co-workers, though she was annoyed by many, but most of them were too optimistic and joyous to deal with after she’d taken a hit the night prior.

She was to work drive-through that shift, so she walked towards one of the windows. Another one of her co-workers is in her spot; the person she’s trading off with.

“Oh, morning, Harukawa.” She looked tired. Out of everyone she worked with, Harukawa found her to be one of the more tolerable ones. She wasn't loud, and had a good head on her shoulders. She rubbed at her pale eyes, and took off her headset.

“Thanks.” Harukawa took it from her and slipped it over her ears. “Bye, Nanami.”

Nanami raised her hand in a slight wave of acknowledgment as she padded away quietly, undoing her apron as she went.

Harukawa drew in a breath. She focused her gaze ahead, staring out at the concrete drive through and the scraggly grass poking out from beyond the curb. She played with the collar of her uniform.

Time for another day to act as Harukawa Maki: a completely normal barista living her completely boring life. Harukawa Maki who _definitely did not_ have a stranger’s blood all over her hands a mere nine hours ago. Harukawa Maki who was delighted to serve you coffee.

Yup. That was her.

“Hello, what can I get for you today?”

-

Cringing at the feeling of a thin layer of grease on her skin, Harukawa untied her apron. Her eight hours of Hell had been served to fruition, and it was about 4 P.M. Her legs and feet ached, but that was par for the course with a café job. As she went to hang up her apron, she spotted Akamatsu talking excitedly with one of her red-haired co-workers, the latter showing the former something on a digital camera.

“Those look breathtaking, Koizumi-san! The way you used the negative space is _fantastic_!” Akamatsu bubbled. “When Shuichi and I get married, I’ll definitely hire you,” she joked. The two women shared a laugh, and Harukawa rolled her eyes.

“Oh- Good afternoon, Harukawa-chan,” Koizumi chirped as the brown-haired woman approached. “I was just letting Akamatsu-chan see the pictures I took of my friend and her fiancée.” She tilted the camera toward Harukawa, who caught a glimpse of a woman with long, black hair dyed pink and blue in places, with an arm around a timid-looking woman with muted purple hair. “I’d love to show you, but my shift starts really soon.”

“Knowing you, I’m sure they're lovely, Koizumi.” Harukawa hung her apron on the hook. Koizumi smiled lightly at her, and walked away from her and Akamatsu.

“Oooh, it must be so lovely to be engaged to the person you love,” Akamatsu cooed. “Speaking of which, Shuichi and I were planning on getting drinks tonight. Wanna come with?” She nudged Harukawa with her elbow. The woman side-eyed the blonde in irritation.

“Sorry, I’ve got plans,” Harukawa replied. She stepped out from behind the counter as Akamatsu shrugged on a jacket and followed behind her. “And why’d you say _speaking of which_?” Akamatsu wrung out her hands, looking bashful.

“Well, maybe you'd meet someone cute at the bar, and you could, y’know…” She didn't even wither under the sharp glare Harukawa had fixed on her. “Get together! Bars are _great_ places for meeting new people!”

“...” Harukawa prodded the inside of her mouth with her tongue, formulating a reply. “I don't recall making my love life _your_ responsibility, Akamatsu.” The blonde pouted at her response.

“Come on, Harukawa-san! That's no fun!” Akamatsu whined. Pushing open the door to the café, Harukawa offered little sympathy.

“Well, isn't that unfortunate,” she muttered, trying to break away from her co-worker and that conversation as she made a beeline to her car. Akamatsu chased after her.

“I just wanna see you happy with someone as awesome as you!” she insisted. “At least hear me out! The bar is a super classy place!”

“If memory serves, I’ve already informed you that I have plans, yes, Akamatsu?” Harukawa said with a frown. “You're so damn persistent.” Akamatsu grinned brightly.

“Of course!” She stuck out her tongue. “What’re your plans, anyways?”

Harukawa inhaled, her co-worker fraying her nerves. “I’m going to go over to my friend Yumeno’s house.” Having reached her car, she rested her hand on one of the door handles.

She supposed this wasn't completely a lie; she could always contact Yumeno when she got home. She was certain her friend’s only plans for the coming night would be watching a movie with her girlfriend at their house. What Harukawa was _really_ going to do that night was meet with her client and collect the rest of the money. They had settled on rendezvousing under the cover of night a day after the job had been done, at the same joint they initially spoke at.

“I see, I see.” Akamatsu seemed to be thinking really hard about her words. “Well, hit my line if you wanna come to the bar with your friend. I’d love to see you there, and I'm sure Shuichi could appreciate more insight into the case. You're a smartie-pants, Harukawa Maki!”

“...Uh huh.” She stepped into her car and mumbled some quiet response to Akamatsu. She thought the woman said goodbye to her, but she barely replied, giving her the slightest nod of acknowledgement.

She quickly started up her car and drove out of the parking lot, without turning on the radio. A bad decision, really; the silence only made her thoughts louder, and she wasn't in the mood for stewing in her misery.

Something about what Akamatsu said really struck a nerve with Harukawa, and she grit her teeth as she slammed on the brake pedal at a red stop light. 

It wasn't like she _wanted_ a partner. She had no time for such a farce. The closest she ever got to some sort of romance with someone was a friend of hers from the orphanage. And it wasn't like she was around anymore, anyways.

Thinking of her made Harukawa grip the steering wheel even tighter, her eyes becoming more focused on the road ahead of her.

It wasn't like anyone would want her, anyways. She was a deranged killing machine, built from the ground up to be anyone _but_ a human. Emotions, intimacy… They were all disgusting weaknesses. Disgusting weaknesses to be exploited, and to be punished for showing.

She attempted to swallow the tightness in her throat. If she so much as hesitated for a heartbeat during her training, she was hit, beaten, or much worse. Any vulnerability was scoffed at, and they would twist your arm this way and that to excise it from you. And that was something she just carried into adulthood. All of that spite, anger, sadness… She held it within her, until they blended together into a cocktail of numbness.

It… It didn’t bother her anymore.

And sure, she had friends- many of her co-workers thought of her as such, and she had known Yumeno for many years. But there was a careful difference between friendship and romance, and she didn’t believe that she was deserving of either. Her main job in life was to hurt others. It would be easier to freeze others out, but people were weird creatures. They pushed at her for affection, just like Akamatsu did.

She _didn’t need anyone._ She was perfectly fine with keeping everyone at a distance.

With her foot, she hit the gas pedal as the light turned to green, cursing Akamatsu for putting such asinine thoughts in her head. It had been a long time, she recalled, since she’d last let herself mull over such things. She gave her head a firm shake as she drove down the busy streets, dissipating the intrusions in her mind.

Harukawa had picked the café she worked at because it was only a five minute drive away from her apartment, and it was a job that was simple enough to grasp. It paid decent money, and it at least it checked the ‘occupation’ box on her government documents. Spending the money she earned from her assassination job could be tricky work, though she had gotten pretty good at it by now. She prayed that the bank just assumed she had a sugar daddy, or a second source of income. Something of that ilk. Either way, it wasn’t like she was able to keep all of the money, anyways. Much of it was carted over to the orphanage as soon as possible.

After some time spent lost in thought, Harukawa pulled up into the driveway of her apartment. It was a modest place; two bedrooms, two floors, one bathroom. She turned off her car and stepped out, locking it as she went.

Pulling her phone out of her pocket as she entered her house, she flipped to Yumeno’s contact in her messenger app and shot her a quick text.

**[4:16 P.M] Harukawa Maki** : Are you free tonight?

She slid the device onto her dining table as she dropped her hand bag and propped it up on one of the chairs, then she made her way to her bathroom. Since taking her barista job, it had become a routine to shower after each of her shifts, to try and scrub off the tell-tale scent of coffee. She locked the door, shed her clothes, and stepped under the burning hot water.

Harukawa had never been one to spend a lot of time in the shower. There was nothing to do in there except clean yourself. And she did just that, scrubbing her arms and legs with soap and shampooing her hair. It took all of seven minutes.

The cold air of the bathroom was a stark contrast to the heat of a shower Satan would be comfortable bathing in. She combed her hair and twisted it into a loose braid.

After redressing in a pair of jeans and a red shirt, she checked her phone for a response from Yumeno.

**[4:19 P.M] Yumeno Himiko** : yeah tenk and i were just gonna hang at ours. wanna come over?

**[4:27 P.M] Harukawa Maki** : Sure, that would be great.

-

And so it came that Harukawa was standing at the entrance to Chabashira and Yumeno’s house, wearing a leather jacket to stave off the early March chilliness. She pressed her finger to the doorbell, and soon enough it was opened.

“Oh! Hey, Maki-san!” It was Chabashira. She was grinning brightly, as usual. “Come in, come in! Himiko is in the living room!” She sidestepped as to allow Harukawa to enter, then shut the door loudly. Harukawa winced. She didn’t mind Yumeno’s girlfriend, but she was always so… much. Chabashira skipped away, and Harukawa followed her with slow steps.

“Himiko! Maki-san is here!” Chabashira yelled. Harukawa came into the living room, where she found Yumeno relaxing on a beige couch and Chabashira leaping over the top of it to join her. Yumeno’s face turned towards Harukawa, and she blinked.

“Ah… hey, Maki. What’s up?” she asked. Harukawa slid down into an arm chair positioned across from the couch. She crossed her legs.

“Nothing much.” Her gaze flitted towards the T.V, which was playing a rerun of a cooking show, the audio turned down low. “Just another boring day at the café.” She rested her chin on her fist. Yumeno shifted, resting her head against Chabashira’s shoulder.

“Sounds dull,” she commented. Harukawa nodded slightly as Yumeno yawned. 

“Nyeh… Things were pretty uneventful at the library,” she put in. Yumeno worked as a librarian and party magician. She performed for birthdays and put on a show every Monday at her place of work. Chabashira, who had admittedly the most exciting career out of all of them, straightened in her seat.

“My kids had sparring matches today! All of them impressed me greatly!” she exclaimed. “I’m especially proud of Mariko-chan. When she first joined my class, she was so shy and nervous, but now she’s one of my strongest fighters!” She clenched her hand into a fist. Yumeno smiled at Chabashira and nuzzled further into her shoulder, causing the brown-haired woman to redden slightly.

“Sounds fun, Chabashira,” Harukawa commented. Chabashira brightened.

“It was,” she hummed. With a small grunt, Yumeno sat up. 

“Hey, Maki, did you hear about the death of that author guy?” she asked, fiddling with the cuffs of her jacket. “It was really sudden.”

_Again with this_. “I did. It was the talk of the café.” _Which means I’ve gotten a lot of time to practice my lines._ Yumeno looked a little upset as she continued. 

“Mm… It’s scary, isn’t it?” She leaned into the couch. “Somewhere, out there… A murderer is on the loose. I could be their next victim,” she murmured glumly. Harukawa gripped her thighs. Chabashira wrapped an arm around her girlfriend and pulled her in close.

“Don’t worry, Himiko! I’ll protect you!” she exclaimed. The sentiment seemed like it comforted Yumeno a little, and she settled into Chabashira’s side. “I read some of that male’s work. It was pretty gross, and overly sexual, but still…” Her eyes were downcast. “Dying like that…” She appeared to struggle with coming up with something positive to say about the man, and his situation.

“He didn’t deserve it,” Yumeno finished. Chabashira nodded vigorously.

“That he didn’t,” Harukawa said, truthfully enough. “Don’t worry, Yumeno, they won’t get to you.” _I can’t imagine anyone ordering me to murder a librarian_. “And if they did, Chabashira would get them, right?” Her eyes met Chabashira’s.

“Damn straight!” she yelled. Yumeno stood and grinned, letting the hand she was holding Chabashira’s with linger for a moment before breaking off. 

“Nyeh… This is such a depressing conversation!” Yumeno complained, her voice infused with a sudden vitality. “I’m gonna go get some iced tea. Tenk, Maki, do you want anything?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” Harukawa answered.

“Some water would be nice, Himiko,” Chabashira requested. Yumeno gave her a thumbs up and waddled off towards the kitchen. When she disappeared through the open entrance to the room, Chabashira let out an elongated sigh. 

“Oh, Maki-san! Himiko is so worried about this murderer thing. I wish I could make her feel more safe,” she languished, her eyes fluttering shut. “I would do anything to protect her.” Harukawa crossed her arms.

“Why don’t you marry her and take her on a honeymoon across the world? No one can get to you, then,” Harukawa suggested, deadpan. Chabashira flushed.

“M-Maki-sannn!” The woman turned into a blushing, mumbling mess. Harukawa eyed her with an even gaze. “I can’t do that! Ha.. Ha…” _Why are you so embarrassed over the prospect of marrying your girlfriend?_ Harukawa thought to herself.

“Yumeno trusts you, Chabashira. She feels safe with you.” Harukawa wasn’t good at words of encouragement, so she left it at that simple sentiment. What an odd feeling it was, to console another over your deeds.

“I guesssss.” Chabashira smacked her face. Perhaps it was an attempt to settle the blood in her cheeks, but in all honesty, it just made them redder. “Thank you, Maki-san!”

Harukawa didn’t reply. Soon after, Yumeno came back into her peripherals, holding two glasses, one for her and one for Chabashira. Her socked feet padded along the carpeted floor as she walked back to the couch, handing one of the drinks to Chabashira. She flopped onto the couch and took a sip of her iced tea.

“It’s too warm for hot chocolate, but too cold for lemonade or iced tea,” she lamented. “Oh, the curse of March.”

“It’s _never_ too warm for hot chocolate, Himiko!” Chabashira exclaimed. Yumeno rolled her eyes affectionately and took another drink of her tea.

Harukawa ignored the dull surge of envy she felt in her chest.

-

She was back in front of the saloon she had first met her client in. 

Dressed in loose-fitting, all black clothes, hair pulled back in a ponytail, Harukawa pushed open the doors and was affronted by the familiar blend of cigarette smoke and the smell of much more illegal substances. Some people turned to look at her as she entered, but she held none of their gazes, and made haste to the back of the room. It was loud inside the building; well, she hadn’t expected it to be quiet. The entire atmosphere caused her to screw up her face in disgust.

Through narrowed eyes, she spotted her client, dressed in the same gothic attire she had been in a week ago. She was sitting across from a blonde girl who reminded Harukawa a little of Akamatsu, what with her hair style and such. The two were engaged in a game of poker.

“Hello,” Harukawa greeted as she came up beside her. The pale-skinned woman looked up, surprise lighting her gaze. Then her face settled into a familiar, pleasant smile.

“Bonjour, madame.” She lowered the cards she was holding to her lap. “I saw the news. Excellent job.” She let out a small chuckle. “I assume you’re here for the money…?”

“You’d assume correctly,” Harukawa huffed. Her client put her cards between her knees and picked up a purse that was sitting beside her. As she unzipped it and started rifling through bills, her poker opponent cocked her head to the side.

“Who’s this pretty little princess?” Harukawa was unsure if it was intentional or not, but the girl’s words sounded like a sneer. The assassin glared at her.

“You best not antagonize her, darling. Your family may never find your body,” the client warned her airily. The opponent’s eyebrows pulled down, and she pursed her lips.

“Are you threatening me?” She narrowed her eyes.

“Take it as you will,” Harukawa murmured, really not looking for a fight with the arrogant blondie. She looked away with a _hmph_ , like she had the same thought.

Her client took five bundles of bills out of her purse, ones that looked to be a similar size to the one she handed over as down payment. She handed them over to Harukawa, then took her cards once more. “$25 000. That is what we decided on, yes?”

With a curt nod, Harukawa whipped out her UV light. Carefully, she counted the money, scanning its authenticity. Her client waited patiently, regarding her with pale red eyes. Having confirmed that her client’s money was legitimate, she slipped it into her side bag. 

“It was good doing business with you, Miss Assassin,” her client said as she snapped her purse shut. The blonde girl’s eyes widened slightly as Harukawa ran a hand through her hair. She didn’t watch as the blondie’s mouth settled into a smug smile.

“Mhm,” Harukawa replied absently. The client once again faced her opponent and waved Harukawa away, effectively dismissing her. She turned away from the two women and started to make her exit. Eyes focused ahead of her, trained on the exit, she walked through the bar quickly and pushed her way out into the darkness of night, wind stinging her exposed skin. _The orphanage will be getting a large donation soon_ , she thought. Like that justified things.

She gazed out into the night sky. It was hard to see the beauty of the stars glimmering above her head with the lights of the city marring the pretty view, but she allowed herself to look up into the sea of indigo for a while longer. Life continued on, _she_ continued on. Whether she was a parentless child, a cynical teenager, or an adult who killed people for money, the stars continued to shine above her.

Not that Harukawa considered herself the biggest fan of space or anything, but she always found the twinkling lights to be oddly comforting. They were a constant. There wouldn’t be a day where they failed to appear in the cover of night.

After taking a few heartbeats to appreciate the stars, she took off. It would be bad for her to be spotted outside of such a shady establishment. The sound of drunken laughter and the smell of smoke haunted her as she stole quickly down a street with broken street lamps and scraggly grass sprouting out from between pavement blocks. 

But since she left the bar so quickly, taking no time to examine her surroundings, she didn’t notice that sitting at a table near her client was a blue-haired woman engaged in a game of blackjack with a twin-tailed blonde. 

Another thing she failed to notice was that that woman was watching her exchange very, _very_ interestedly from over her glasses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "tenk" is intentional lmao, it's what i call her.  
> anyways, we're two chapters into this and we still haven't seen kaito??? where is he. where will he be. don't worry, if things go as planned, he'll be appearing soon. this chapter is supposed to introduce some characters and settings, and lean into the whole "assassin in the real world" idea. anyways, i'm not an assassin. i'm 15, the most illegal thing i've done is jay-walk. so i'm sorry if these hit exchanges are inaccurate  
> real talk though, wouldn't it be kind of terrifying to have a string of unsolved murders in your city? a couple years ago a murder-suicide happened at the residence a couple doors down from me. spooky stuff.  
> the rest of these chapters prolly won't come out as fast as this one did, i was half done it when i posted the first one. thanks for reading!


	3. the astronaut

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maki meets some sketchy people and receives an urgent request.

“Detective Saihara, the preliminary results of the autopsy have come in.”

“Hm?” Saihara glanced up from his desk, where he was reading over Yamada’s case file. He had printouts of emails and blog posts in his hands as he reached out to take the manilla folder from his co-worker. “Thank you, Sargeant Sakakura.” 

His co-worker nodded and walked off. Saihara focused his attention on the file and flipped it open, cringing slightly at the photos of Yamada’s body that were included in the report. He read carefully, fixating on the most important parts. _‘Left common carotid artery and jugular vein were severed, causing a shortness of blood to the brain, leading to cerebral hypoxia.’_ “Well, that was clear enough with even a cursory glance at the body,” Saihara mumbled to himself as he read. _‘There were no suspicious substances contained in the victim’s stomach that we could find at this time. Trace amounts of partially digested ramen were found in the victim’s body.’_

Saihara’s fingertips flitted across the finely-printed text. _Meaning he probably wasn’t held hostage and could move freely about a few hours before his death,_ he deduced. He continued to read. _‘Due to signs of a struggle around the body and destruction of company property, as well as the cause of death, it is believed that the victim was murdered.’_ Saihara clucked his tongue. _‘The cause of death is approximated to be between 11 P.M and 12 A.M.’_

He thought about that information for a moment. _Which would mean that his employees would be the most likely suspects._ The ponderance lingered in his mind as he ruminated on it. _But why would they feel the need to sabotage the camera if it’s normal for them to be inside? Meaning I can’t tentatively say whether they, or an outside person, are more likely to be the killer._

Saihara’s desk chair squeaked as he leaned back, putting his hand to his chin. _Looks like this won’t be very cut and dry. But when is it ever?_ He sighed.

One thing that the detective had been fixated on, however, was that neither the door to the establishment nor the door to Yamada’s room seemed like they had been tampered with. Neither were locked, and it seemed the culprit entered both with little to no trouble. _Which means…_

Saihara’s eyes widened slightly.

_Was the victim expecting the culprit?_

Just as that thought came to him, his phone buzzed to life on his desk. He knew that he shouldn’t look at it, and stay focused on the case, but he had been working it for several hours, and probably deserved a small reprieve. 

Using that excuse to squander his guilt, he reached out to take his phone.

**New Messages (3): star crusaders! ☆ Group Chat**

**[8:46 A.M] Momota Kaito:** so none of y’all can come to the party?? :(

**[8:46 A.M] Momota Kaito:** i’m gonna be so aloneee

**[8:47 A.M] Akamatsu Kaede:** sorry kaito-kun :x I have a show tomorrow night

**[8:48 A.M] Saihara Shuichi:** and you know i don’t do well with big crowds

**[8:49 A.M] Momota Kaito:** I COULD PROTECT YOU 

**[8:49 A.M] Momota Kaito:** BRO I’LL HOLD YOU IN MY ARMS

**[8:49 A.M] Saihara Shuichi:** ah, that’s nice, but no

**[8:50 A.M] Momota Kaito:** :((( shuichiiiiiiiiiii

**[8:50 A.M] Akamatsu Kaede:** hell hath no fury like a kaito scorned!

Saihara smiled lightly at the messages from his best friend and girlfriend. If ever there was an excellent distraction from stress, it was them. It felt good to hear regularly from Momota again; the man had recently returned to Earth from a space expedition. Since one of their most famous astronauts finally had his feet back on the soil, the company he worked for decided to throw a large party celebrating; mainly for the publicity factor, Saihara assumed.

He had gone to visit Momota as soon as he was free from all his medical examinations, naturally. His friend was jovial as ever, despite the toll space travel had taken on his physical and mental wellbeing. He still greeted Saihara with a wide grin and an inviting tone.

His phone buzzed in his hand again.

**[8:52 A.M] Momota Kaito:** kaede imma finesse your man away

**[8:52 A.M] Akamatsu Kaede:** step off  >:(

**[8:52 A.M] Saihara Shuichi:** hushhush you’re both beautiful 

With a sigh, Saihara put his phone back on his desk. He picked the report back up and went back to analyzing. _Fun’s over, Saihara. Back to the case._

-

Saturday. One of the two days of the week that Harukawa had off.

She didn’t particularly enjoy her job as a barista, but it was a distraction. A chance to live a life where she truly was a normal woman, just a mindless proletariat like everyone else. Being away from that gave her a chance to breathe, sure, but it gave her the chance to do a lot of other things.

Like think, think, think.  
The assassin was loitering in her car, hand on the steering wheel, sitting in complete silence. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Count to fifteen, rinse and repeat. Her gaze flickered to the building she was parked in front of- a large, tattered-looking place. A place she once called home.

The orphanage.

Handing over money to the place she grew up in always felt a little dirty to Harukawa. Either way, she was forced to grin and bear it. It was for the kids. It was for the kids she helped raise. It was so that none of them were manipulated into following her on the path she prayed she walked alone.

The thought of barring those children from a life like hers was what kept her going.

It became her hope, one might say.

With a sigh of futility, she turned her ignition and the car roared to life. Her skin crawled as she imagined the men with kind faces watching her car as she pulled away from the curb, as if making sure she returned to her life of crime to provide for the children.

What a disgusting life she led. And yet, she couldn’t break out of it.

She unrolled her window, allowing the wind to whip past her face, her hair behind her. The day was nice, she supposed, with a pale blue-grey sky and white clouds. As she drove, she turned on the radio, though she kept the volume low. It was nearly drowned out by the sound of the wind, but that was alright, she figured.

In her head, Harukawa went over a to-do list. She had planned to stop by a drug store on her way home, but then after that, she had little to do. Typically, she did her laundry and other chores on Sunday. _Whatever. I’ll just watch T.V or something._

After some time, she pulled into the crowded driveway of a store plaza, parking in front of a drug mart. She left her car and crossed the parking lot as quickly as she could.

As she got to the store’s entrance, however, she was stopped from going inside immediately. A short man dressed in white and purple attire intercepted her approach, hands on his hips, grinning up at her.

“Can I help you?” Harukawa questioned with a glare. She found herself assuming a defensive position, angling herself slightly away from him, her hand clenching into a fist. The man looked like a child, what with his stature and messy appearance, but she didn’t know what he was capable of. _And why… does he look kind of familiar?_

“You can come with me,” the man responded brightly. _Ugh._ Harukawa rolled her eyes and went to enter the store, but before she could, the man’s hand flew out and grabbed her wrist.

“Whoa, whoa, girlie. I’m not hitting on you.” He pursed his lips. “Like I’d ever.”

“Then what the Hell do you want?” Harukawa growled.

“Um, hm, let’s see.” He removed his hand from the assassin’s. “What _do_ I want?” He put a finger to his chin, like this was something he had to seriously think about. Harukawa watched him impatiently. The man’s lilac eyes seemed wild, unfocused, until they finally turned up to meet Harukawa’s, grin on his face.

“Oh, yes! You’re a cold-blooded killer, riiight?” he chirped excitedly.

_What?_

Beneath her skin, Harukawa felt her blood turn to ice. Her gaze intensified as the man blinked up at her with an innocent smile. With a quick glance around her to make sure there weren’t too many people in her general vicinity, she grabbed the collar of the man’s bright purple hoodie and pushed him to the wall.

“Where did you hear that?” The man’s eyes flashed as Harukawa let out a growl, her glare as hot as fire. “Who are you?” she hissed. 

“Just your friendly neighbourhood supreme leader of evil,” he giggled. Harukawa set her jaw and tightened her grip, and the man lifted his hands and waved them defensively. “Whoa, lady! I know you could snap me in twain right now, but we’re in public,” he reminded her, his pupils sliding across his eyes to look to the side. Harukawa followed his gaze and noticed a disgruntled old couple, some twenty feet away, looking at them concernedly. 

With an angered sigh, Harukawa let go and stepped away. The man brushed off his pants. “You will tell me who you are, and what you want, _now._ ” Her tone implied that the man had little choice in his actions. The logical side of her brain screamed that she shouldn’t engage with the man, but despite the fact he was so childish, he could be dangerous.

“Okee dokie. Come, let’s walk,” the man offered as he stepped to the side. His hand grabbed the bar that marked the door to the drug mart as its doorknob, and pulled it open. “Ladies first,” he said with a cock of his eyebrow.

Unsettled, Harukawa swiftly entered the store. The man followed her in, pocketing his hands as he went. “So, to tell you the truth, my boss noticed you while we were out playing cards the other night,” he started as they ducked into an aisle filled with self-care products.

Right. When she went to collect the money. _God damn it_ , Harukawa cursed herself. She shouldn’t have spoken with her client in such a crowded area, an area that was surely filled with people with a much higher body count than her. She really shouldn’t have. _Dammit!_

“Collecting money from that Yasuhiro chick, of course. She’s stolen practically all my life savings from gambling, y’know?” The man took a moment to reminisce. Harukawa exhaled sharply. “Right, right, no deliberation. An-y-wayz, this got the boss all hot n’ bothered. So she sent me to track you.”

“Track me?” Harukawa echoed. She paused in the middle of the aisle and grabbed a bottle of shampoo off of one of the shelves. “For what purpose?” She was doing her best to maintain her composure. After all, a drug mart carried too many witnesses. They continued to walk.

“Uhm,” the man started, his voice dropping to a low whisper, “my best bet is she wants you to do an assassination job.”

Harukawa froze in her tracks. “Why is she assuming I’m an assassin?” she mumbled in response as she picked up the pace. The man shrugged. 

“Well, for starters-” He brought up a hand and started to count fingers. “You accepted a large sum of money from a shady girl in an ever shadier club, you had a very strong reaction to me calling you out as a killer, and you followed me in here despite the fact that you could’ve easily left me alone. The only reason you came in the store with me is because we’re in the same sketchy business, and you don’t know what I could do to you, yada yada yada, case in point.” He pointed at Harukawa. “Assassin.”

The woman was stunned into silence. The man smirked at her, satisfied. “You’re right, by the way! If you had run away from me, I definitely would’ve sent my subordinates after you, and you’d be dead in your house by tonight.”

“You’re making threats to the wrong person,” Harukawa said. 

“Ahh! I’m so scared!” The man exclaimed, putting his hands to his face in mock horror. “Don’t kill me, please. I don’t wanna die.” Harukawa rolled her eyes as he reached into his pocket and handed her a small slip of paper that looked like a business card. Screwing up her face as she did so, she took it, and read the small letters printed on it.

_Come to the same saloon at 11:30 P.M exactly. We’ll be waiting behind the building._

Harukawa narrowed her eyes as she looked back up at the man. “Why should I trust anything you say to me? I don’t know you, you haven’t told me your name, and I don’t know if you’re telling me the truth or not.” 

“Your choice, Little Miss Assassin. It’s your life on the line if you disobey the boss.” He put his hands back on his hips. “As for my name? Um… You can call me Izuku Kujikawa.” He winked a purple eye.

_That’s… definitely an alias_ , Harukawa thought to herself. Kujikawa -at least, that’s what he called himself- turned his back to Harukawa and waved.

“See you tonight!” he said excitedly.

And then he was gone, leaving Harukawa alone in the middle of the self-care aisle, clutching a bottle of shampoo, a distinct feeling of unease and discomfort building in her stomach. She wanted to move, but for some reason, she felt frozen. Any attempt to move a limb resulted in numb feedback that barely registered in her mind.

How the Hell was anyone supposed to pretend like everything was fine, and go buy tampons and toilet paper like things were normal after an encounter like that?

-

11:25 P.M.

Harukawa was hesitating.

And as she stood in place, nightfall around her, she found herself flinching. The night was alive and so was she, but something felt blatantly wrong about being alone in front of the bar. No one was around her, or at least in her general vicinity, and she wasn’t in the midst of a battle.

She flinched because she was taught to expect the unexpected. She flinched because she knew she was never really, truly alone.

She flinched because in the world she grew up in, if she had stopped, it only meant an attack was coming her way.

_Stop being such a child,_ she chastised herself. Her boots clicking on the broken pavement as she walked around the saloon, Harukawa pulled her hood further down over her face. She didn’t want to be noticed by anyone or anything, not even the raccoons skittering around the garbage cans or the moths dancing around the lamps on the side of the building. She rolled a ball of lint in the pocket of her jacket between her thumb and forefinger in somewhat of a nervous tic as the brick exterior of the bar scraped against her clothing.

Hidden deep in the inside pocket of her jacket, Harukawa had stored a pocket knife. It was small, and probably couldn’t do much damage, but it wasn’t like she could carry around her regular knife, and heading to this strange meeting unarmed made her more than uncomfortable. She didn’t want to admit that Kujikawa’s threat had unsettled her, but she wasn’t going to skip out.

At the edge of the wall, she paused briefly, making sure she could feel the press of the tool against her side. When she confirmed its presence, she rounded the corner, and spotted three people waiting there, all in a huddle together. With slow, methodical steps, she approached them.

Kujikawa’s head of messy, dark purple hair jerked up at the sound of her footsteps. “You’re early, Miss Killer.” Harukawa didn’t miss the spite that laced those words. She said nothing to him, and instead turned to the woman standing in the middle, who was dressed in a corset and had long, blue hair cascading down her back.

“You’re his boss?” Harukawa asked. The woman’s eyes widened slightly.

“U-um, kind of? I guess.” For a person that Kujikawa used so much coercion to get Harukawa to meet, the woman seemed meek, milquetoast. “I guess you could say Junko-san and I are his bosses.” She tipped her head to the woman beside her- a blonde wearing a low-cut top, smoking a cigarette.

“Can it, Shirogane. Get on with the request,” she ordered, twiddling her cigarette between her fingers. Shirogane’s mouth fell open, and she looked shocked for a moment before regaining her composure. She turned back to Harukawa, putting a hand on her hip- Harukawa noticed she was clutching a briefcase with her spare one.

“Right, right. So- Kujikawa, the picture, please.” At Shirogane’s order, Kujikawa slipped a piece of paper out of his pocket and gave it to Harukawa. She looked down at it- it was a photo of a man with a bright smile and a stupid hairdo.

“Do you recognize him?” asked Shirogane. Harukawa scrutinized the picture further- his face did seem familiar, like she’d seen it in the news or something. Her hand dropped to her side.

“You could say that,” she responded.

“Good, good.,” Shirogane mumbled to herself. She faced Harukawa, her entire demeanor changing. Harukawa swore that she saw the light trickle from the woman’s eyes. “I need you to kill him.”

Harukawa inhaled. “I assumed that this was about something like that.” Shirogane smiled.

“His name is Momota Kaito. He’s an astronaut, who has evaded my grasp for far too long…” She let her words hang in the air before she continued. “I need him killed by tomorrow night.”

_Tomorrow night._ The phrase reverberated in Harukawa’s head over and over, until she was finally able to respond. “I can’t do tomorrow,” she replied with an even tone. The blonde woman -Junko, was it?- flicked ash off her cigarette as she snorted. “I need more time than that,” she informed the trio.

“Don’t worry about that little detail.” Shirogane fished around in her pocket for something. “Tomorrow, Momota’s agency is holding an invite-only party celebrating his return from space. This,” she hummed, holding out a small piece of paper, “is an invite handed out to Momota’s acquaintances. You should be able to infiltrate the party using this!” As Harukawa took the paper, she glanced at it. _Admit One_ was scribed on it with neat letters, alongside some of the details of the gathering. She slipped it into the hand that was holding Momota’s photo.

“You’ve really planned this all out, huh?” she muttered, her gaze flickering between the three people. Junko was smirking, gazing off into the distance. Shirogane was looking at Harukawa expectantly, smile on face, eyes swimming with darkness. Only Kujikawa didn’t look pleased. His grin wasn’t as tight as it had been when they had spoken prior, his eyes tired. He didn’t necessarily look angry, just… nonplussed. Unhappy with what was transpiring. His disinterest piqued Harukawa’s curiosity, since he seemed so gungho that afternoon, but she didn’t voice it.

“Of course!” Shirogane chirped. “The best laid plans require a script and preparation!”

“...Uh huh.” Harukawa narrowed her eyes. “I just had a job. You must realize I typically don’t take requests in such succession, because it draws too much attention.” She crossed her arms.

“Ah, I thought you might say that.” Shirogane said deviously. “If I may direct your attention to this-” She swung up the briefcase she was holding into her arms, and clicked it open. Harukawa’s eyes widened to the size of twin moons.

A massive amount of money was contained within the case, stacks upon stacks of bills in neat rows. Shirogane rested her chin on the popped open top. Harukawa, meanwhile, balked at the money. It was more than she’d ever seen in one place. _Bills in a suitcase, how cliché_ , she thought privately to herself, awestruck.

“$100 000,” Shirogane disclosed. “And I assure you, it’s all real. Look upon it with that blacklight you’re so fond of, if you want,” she said mean-spiritedly. “And if you take this job, all of it could be yours. All you need to do,” she continued as she jutted her chin towards the photo Harukawa was holding, “is kill Momota tomorrow.”

Harukawa’s jaw tightened. _If I had that much money, I wouldn’t have to take a job for a long time. I could… Maybe live normally more a while._ Her gaze flickered to the photo of the astronaut in her hand, which she regarded warily. She found herself focusing on his shiny expression. _But…_

“Do you take me as a person who’d be bribed by that?” she asked. Junko cocked her head to one side.

“You’re, like, an assassin. Isn’t your entire job based around bribery?” she pointed out. Shirogane nodded. “Pretty fuckin’ insane that you wouldn’t take a rad fuckin’ deal like this!” As Junko continued, her voice dropped and roughened, sticking out her tongue cheekily. To Harukawa, it seemed like her entire personality shifted in the blink of an eye.

“...It’s a pretty good deal,” Kujikawa put in solemnly. Seriously, what had happened to him?

Harukawa exhaled. She worried slightly that what she was going to say next may be bad news for her, but she had her knife in her pocket. “And what if I don’t want to take the deal?”

Shirogane snapped the case shut and let it drop to her side. She raised her head slightly, and a glare danced across the surface of her glasses. “That’s your decision,” she replied. “But if you don’t play your part in the story I’ve written… Then I can’t say what complications will arise.” She smiled lightly.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what the blue-haired woman was threatening Harukawa with. And though she’d never admit it, she felt her pulse quicken inside her. It felt like the woman and her two comrades were looming over her, casting shadows over her body in the dead of night. She should just take the money, she knew that. She should just shut up and do her job and be the perfect little emotionless killing machine she was meant to be. She should just kill this Momota guy and collect the money, that would benefit all of the parties involved- except the victim, of course.

She knew that if she continued to string along Shirogane, things would turn out bad for her.

But instead, she chose to push it.

“If you have the means to take me out, why hire me?” Harukawa questioned. Kujikawa glared at her.

“I’ve heard good things about you. Also, I wouldn’t want to dirty my own hands with this.” Shirogane pushed up her glasses. “Putting _my_ team in jeopardy? I can’t do that, not to Junko-san.” She sounded almost wistful as she spoke. “You, however… If they trace it back to someone like you, no one’ll miss the extra that you are.”

Harukawa bit the inside of her cheek. “Harsh,” Kujikawa commented. “Ya really think that’s gonna get her on your side, Shirogane-chan?” he asked. Shirogane’s brow furrowed as she cast a hard look in the man’s direction.

Harukawa chose not to respond to the barb. She wouldn’t be missed… It was likely that that was true, but she had quickly grown to hate this blue-haired woman in the short amount of time she had known her, and wouldn’t be complacent if she was satisfied with her being taken down. She felt some semblance of anger burn in the pit of her stomach at Shirogane’s innocent smirk.

“You’re insistent to get me to kill this guy,” is what she finally said aloud. She didn’t like to press her clients for motives, but something about getting on this girl’s nerves was quite enjoyable. “Why?”

“My motives are… Very complex,” hummed Shirogane. “But we’ll leave it at that.”

“Are you fuckin’ taking the job or what?” Junko spat, her patience clearly wearing thin, taking a step towards Harukawa.

Harukawa’s muscles tensed. It was now or never, that’s what she thought to herself. She could take this request and get a tidy sum, but something about the entire job made her feel a little sick, uncertain. She felt an air of pressure pressing on her, suffocating her, as the two women glared at her, and Kujikawa watched her from under his messy bangs.

It wasn’t like she had a good reason not to take the job. Her own morality had been thrown out the window long ago, so it wasn’t like she was clinging to the idea of “right” and “wrong.” The only issue she was able to take with it was that it was very soon after her job regarding Yamada, so that might give Saihara the final push he needed to connect the murders together.

Ah, right. Saihara was on the case. She had nearly forgotten about him. And with a bigshot like this Momota seemed to be, it was incredibly unlikely that the detective would stand by as the astronaut’s murder broke the news. She brought her hand to her mouth and found that she was biting her thumbnail.

Both Kujikawa and Shirogane had been very clear that something undesirable would befall Harukawa if she refused. She felt a bead of sweat form on her forehead as she thought about the possibility. She could fend for herself if worse came to worse, but…

“Yeah,” she said finally. “I’ll take it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: writes "the orphanage" on its own line  
> me: I ESTABLISHED THE FIRST PRIVATE ORPHANAAAGE  
> you're an Absolute Fool if you think i'm gonna write a story without a saihara pov in it.. madmen  
> anyways. i've been trying to get this chapter up since last night, but stuff kept coming up so here we are, 15 or so hours later. i'm not as happy with this chapter as the first two, but hopefully it's still enjoyable! i actually did some research about this (for once), and apparently it can take up to six weeks for the full results of an autopsy to come out. i'm not so sure what's different between the prelim and the final, but, uh... just assume this is a good ol ace attorney autopsy if the details are staggeringly different.  
> let's get the ball rolling it's P L O T time  
> here comes space boy!


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